To the Beat
by Asj Johnson
Summary: Palpatine recreates Anakin and the Republic into something very different—Vader and the Empire. Short fic inspired by a song.


Pretty much nothing here belongs to me. Just a silly idea. Inspired by wondering if I could make a songfic that doesn't annoy me, and the thought of Daft Punk's "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger" song matching so well with the end of Ep III.

* * *

**To the Beat**

The long metal arms surrounding the table poked and prodded, drilled and sliced, in sync with one another. An echoing rhythm in the otherwise silent room.

Palpatine looked on, his face split in a grin that was at once satisfied and hungrily eager.

He was making Vader harder... Better... Faster... _Stronger_. The droids continued their work, typing out the beat that would rebuild him, make him stronger.

* * *

The sandstorm picked up, grains of sand hitting various odds and ends typing out a beat. Little Ani led the perfect strangers—his new friends—to his home for shelter. They needed help, and he couldn't just let them die. Besides, he was sure his mom wouldn't mind.

* * *

The yells of Tusken Raiders and the hum of a lightsaber filled the air, creating a deadly beat. Anakin's mouth was a thin line, eyes cold and hard. The last moments of his mother's life played on repeat in his mind. The last remnants of childhood dying in his arms, over and over.

An event that would make him harder.

* * *

Palpatine had planned things well over the years. But his work was _never_ over. He watched on as the droids continued their work, piecing together his new creation.

* * *

Blue and green lightsabers clashed against a single red, the sound creating a rhythm for their dance. Dooku's blade struck out, taking one of Anakin's lightsabers, and then it was just blue on red. Until, again, Dooku struck a blow, lopping off the padawan's arm.

* * *

The two Force-users dueled as Palpatine looked on. Lightsabers clashing, their footwork almost a dance.

And then, red and blue blades crossed before Dooku, Skywalker holding both.

The indecision, the inner conflict. Decided. The harshness in his eyes as he moved to lop off his opponent's head.

Frightened, hurting surprise on Dooku's face. Such weakness in his old apprentice!

But Skywalker would be harder.

_Better_.

* * *

The soft ticking of a chronometer set a gentle pace in the office. Palpatine sat across from Anakin, a kind smile on his face as he listened to the teen's day.

Just a small comment, something to stroke his ego, and nothing more. Not yet. Slowly was best.

* * *

His patience was wearing; he would do it faster.

Skywalker was reeling. The boy slumped back in shock at how quickly all was happening, eyes wide as his lightsaber fell from numb fingers.

But Palpatine would push him harder, make him better, do it faster.

The sound of hundreds of marching soldiers set a mighty pace.

* * *

Among the long metal arms, his new apprentice was beginning to come to consciousness. Pained moans joined the harmony of the procedure.

* * *

Anakin laughed as he dove the speeder toward the ground, Obi-Wan tense at his side. The sounds of traffic zipping by created an exhilarating beat. He never felt more alive.

* * *

The young Vader plummeted down the rocky bank, his groans of pain creating a horrible beat. Flames consumed him while Obi-Wan simply watched, tense, from above.

* * *

The operating table tilted forward, standing the black behemoth upright. Vader was stronger than ever before. Steady mechanical breaths filled the chamber and created an eerie beat.

He made his apprentice harder, better, did it faster, made him stronger.

But it was only the beginning, the start of his new Empire. Their work will never be over.

* * *

The Emperor scowled. The rebels had scored a small victory. It was bound to encourage those urchins to grow in boldness—unless they did something about it.

He sat in his throne room before a semi-circle composed of Vader, the grand moffs, and his other enforcers. He slammed his fist on the armrest, punctuating each of his points with a beat.

"Crack down harder!

"Make the Empire better!

"Do it faster!

"Make it stronger!" he snarled.

* * *

The rebellion took out his Death Star: his ultimate weapon. He was furious.

Blue holos of several technicians stood before his throne. The flickering holograms fizzed in rhythm.

"Make a new one," he growled, "and make it _harder _to destroy!" He narrowed his eyes at the schematics projected in front of him. "Make it _bigger_! And build it _faster_! The laser—make it _stronger_!"

The technicians shifted in place.

"_Now!_"

Each hologram blinked off.

* * *

He stood before the window, chin held high as he gazed at the spherical framework. His ship's engine hummed a rhythm through his bones.

Once it was complete, it would be nigh impossible to destroy, let alone be harder to do so. It was close to two times bigger. Definitely better. And it was already two-thirds complete. Much faster than the first time. The superlaser was fully functional and stronger than the original planet vaporizer.

His face split in a grin that was at once satisfied and hungrily eager.

It would be completed soon. Very soon. But their work was not yet over.

His plan would take place even sooner. Once he made his final move, it would all be over.

* * *

Note:

I actually came up with the idea and wrote most of it January 2017, but had forgotten about it. I happened across some old notes for it yesterday, so I thought I'd finish it. Do you like it?


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